Anticipating Madness (Small Town Boredom Style)

written for NPR's "3 minute story" contest: 600 words or less

Some people swore that the house was haunted- they just kind of forgot to mention that to my mother and me on moving day. True to form for residents of small coal-mining towns in the middle of nowhere, they respectfully sat behind musty curtained windows and prayed for our early demise.

Fern Glen PA had 27 houses at last count, and a construction trailer cum Post Office. It was the type of place where you could drop off a letter at said post office with only someone's nickname (Bitsy, Fuzzy) written on the outside of the envelope, and the letter would reach its destination. It was a very quiet place, where not much happened. When we put a grill together in the back yard, the neighbors put a barrel on tap and invited their friends to watch. 

About the house: It was a coal town house, which meant it was ugly. It was a four unit row house with yellow vinyl siding . We lived two units from the right. The landlord had the last unit on the right. His daughter and son had the units to either side of ours, and they switched houses periodically. As in, every other week. They'd fight, make up, switch houses. With a moving sale each time they did so.  

We lived in that house for eight months after the divorce. During those months, our hubcaps were stolen, one at a time. I lived in the basement to avoid prying teenage male eyes. It never occurred to us to ask why the house had sttod empty; or why the brother and sister not once attempted to get us to play musical apartments with them. Nor, why the rent was so cheap. Or why none of us ever felt quite right staying there alone. It had to do with more than the disapproving glares of the neighbors when my mom wore a halter top outside. We just did not think to put two and two together.  

As a bonus, the Black Creek, which ran through town, parallel to Main Street, was also possibly the most polluted body of water in the state, running a different hue of manufacturing waste each day of the week. One night, a toxic cloud of gas a mile long was  released by the industrial park at its headwaters. Authorities and EMTs went door-to-door, evacuating every single residence along the creeks' route. Except one.

 Whether it was because of the town legends surrounding the house we lived in, or because the people disliked outsiders that much, they never knocked on our door. Landlord, brother and sister were taken to shelter. We slept through it all, awakening to only a pair of sore throats. Residents acted happy to see us alive and well the next day. Looks, I have learned, can be very deceiving.

 We found out much later that the two previous tenants had both committed suicide, and the apartment had a reputation for "making its residents a little loco". No townie would voluntarily live there, but they had no trouble putting an out-of-towner and her daughter in there, just for the fun of "seeing what might happen". I am pretty sure bets were even placed. In my opinion, it was the rest of the damned town that was crazy, not us. But that's another story. 

 Like I said, my mom and I lived there for eight months. Nothing was ever the same again after that.

Author's Note

For NPR's "3-minute story" contest:

Each round, our judges throw out a challenge. This time, your story must begin with the line, "Some people swore that the house was haunted." It must end with, "Nothing was ever the same again after that." 600 word limit.

Slightly fictionalized account of mostly true events...

Reviews

[Dane Osborne]

I loved this. I am very surprised it hasn't gotten any reviews. I know it was just for a contest but it was very entertaining. Madness among individuals is rare but among crowds madness is the condition. Well done and kudos